A friend of mine has a 15-year-old daughter who is obsessed with fast-pitch softball. It seems often to be the most important thing in her life.

Certainly, she devotes a great deal of time and effort to pursuit of the sport. She plays in a competitive softball league. She has been playing this version of the sport since she was 7. The team practices at least twice each week for two hours and then they play competitively every weekend for the entire summer. The dedication she, her teammates and her coaches display is something that I, a middle-aged sedentary professor, find remarkable. Let me give a few examples.

A normal weekend of softball frequently begins on Friday night and then continues into Saturday and, on occasion, Sunday. This means, in practice, that each team may play as many as eight to 10 games during the weekend. It’s not unusual that the first game will begin at 8 a.m. and that the last game of the day may begin at 9 p.m. Each game lasts one hour and 10 minutes. Thus, an individual competitor may play more than 10 hours of competitive ball in a single weekend.

The games themselves take place at various venues, often 50 miles or more from their home fields. And, of course, each player is accompanied by her own cheering squad of dedicated friends and families.

The sport is not inexpensive. On some teams, players must spend close to $1,000 for uniforms, travel expenses and tournament fees. Other teams depend on community fundraisers and make do with less expensive uniforms and equipment. Many of the players attend sports camps and clinics to improve their skills and some will even hire private coaches, if they (or their parents) can afford it. No matter how much is spent, however, the players are highly dedicated and the coaches and parents are completely committed.

A few weeks ago, one of the coaches of my friend’s daughter’s team suffered a major heart attack, just a few days before the national competition. His only concern in the hospital was whether he’d be out in time to coach his team. Indeed, he was so excited about his team’s success and so single-minded about aiding them in every way he could, he not only coached the team that weekend, but he was in such a rush to get to the ballfield that he forgot the nitro tablets that his cardiologist had provided for him.

At a time when professional athletes have become living corporations focused on maximizing profits through product endorsements and paid appearances, and collegiate athletics have become even more dominated by money and profits than many professional franchises, it is extraordinarily refreshing to see young, enthusiastic, amateur athletes playing for the sheer joy of it. To my mind, this is American sports at its best. It is these activities that teach our children the meaning of friendly competition, of team loyalty and cooperation, and how to be “good sports.”

If the English believed that wars were won “on the playing fields of Eton,” then I think that we can say that true American virtues are taught and acquired and acquired on the ballfields and in the amateur leagues which are found across this country. Long may they flourish.